


hold the bubbles

by acciocreativity



Category: Glee
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:29:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24175132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciocreativity/pseuds/acciocreativity
Summary: Blaine, I'm gonna throw that machine out the window!
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 18
Kudos: 54





	hold the bubbles

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi! um wow ok so long time fic reader, first time fic poster. heaps of thanks to the ever so lovely kaycee (@wowthanksdarren on twit) for the title and for so many lovely words of encouragement! i would die for u, k. speaking of which, i would also die for these boys. i came up with this idea a few months back on twitter when i asked the question: but what if kurt actually HAD thrown the sodastream out the window? spoiler alert i guess, but yeah. any feedback is much appreciated, especially since i really want to get into writing more fic this summer, i have a bunch of random ideas i'd love to play with (all klaine, of course). this is getting longer than the actual body of this somewhat short oneshot, so i'll leave you to it! i hope you enjoy.

Moving back to New York with his husband (husband!) in tow had been mostly filled with all of the best things Kurt loved about being with Blaine. Now that they were married, the two had doubled down on strengthening their relationship. Blaine had made his own rule where he wouldn’t go to bed upset or uncomfortable with Kurt. He wasn’t about to start burying his feelings in pastries or wallowing in self-pity instead of choosing the healthier option of talking things through with his love. Similarly, Kurt had been working on his patience and understanding and making sure he had time for himself. The fact that Blaine was enrolled full time at NYU while Kurt finished his third year at NYADA helped loads with this, but Kurt still made sure to not let the little things creep under his skin and take over.

However, one can only repeat “patience is a virtue” so many times to themselves before they finally crack.

Kurt stared at the idle SodaStream, currently wedged between the toaster and the fridge. Even now, with Blaine at his three p.m. music theory class, not due back for another half hour or so, Kurt heard the incessant whirring like a ringing in his ears. Blaine tried to keep down his usage of the thing, and Kurt gave him credit for that. But minimal usage to a soda bubbles addict like Blaine meant thrice a week, and that was thrice too many for Kurt’s taste.

Kurt tried to distract himself from the thoughts that popped into his head ( _It would be quick and easy, he had time to act now before getting caught_ ) by sketching some designs for Isabelle while he sipped his tea, but he kept catching the glint of the machine out of the corner of his eye. Of course Blaine went for the shiny rose gold option. He had a magpie for a husband.

He maintained his self-control for a little while longer, and once he’d finally moved onto obsessing over the cut of the blazer he shaped out on the page before him, Kurt heard the telltale noise of keys unlocking the front door as his husband arrived home.

“Hi love,” Kurt said without looking up from the drawing. No response. He looked up and—of course. Blaine had his noise cancelling headphones on and danced through the apartment, giving a very enthusiastic air guitar that went along with whatever he was listening to as he approached Kurt. Blaine gave his husband a kiss hello and continued over to the kitchen. Not thinking anything of it, Kurt smiled and went back to his work. He would chat with Blaine about his day once he finally got the angle of the shoulders right and once Blaine finished listening to what sounded like Hedwig and the Angry Inch. That was the best thing about finally being married: they had _time_.

A few quiet moments went by, only punctuated by sounds of Blaine moving around the kitchen. But soon, a sound that can only be compared with what Kurt was sure ten angry beehives sounded like filled the space, causing Kurt to immediately tense up and drop his pencil.

Kurt whipped his head around and heaved a sigh. Blaine, his sweet, lovely Blaine, so help him God, was spreading peanut butter on toast with his back to the now in-use SodaStream, headphones still on. While Kurt was subjected to the whir that haunted his nightmares, Blaine listened to Neil Patrick Harris belt along to rock music.

What happened next felt like his body made a subconscious decision to act before his consciousness had time to catch up.

Kurt stood and quickly strode into the kitchen, unplugging the SodaStream, and crossed over to the window in the breakfast nook overlooking the alley between buildings. Blaine saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and did a double take, but Kurt paid no mind. He opened the latch and pushed the pane up. He couldn’t do this anymore, he just couldn’t, not with his deadline and the final performances, and—

Kurt’s right arm pulled back, ready to pitch the machine out into the alley below, hopefully into the Dumpster of the neighboring building. “Kurt!” He felt a hand grasp his other shoulder, but it was too late. Still acting under whatever force had compelled his body to grab the machine in the first place, he launched the SodaStream through the open window.

He was too shocked at what he had just done to hear the metallic THUNK of the appliance landing on the side of the Dumpster.

Kurt turned to Blaine. “I…. I don’t…”

Blaine’s shoulders slumped and his eyes cast downward, his face resembling that of a kicked puppy.

“I don’t know what came over me, Blaine… I just—”

“You know, if that machine still bothered you so much,” Blaine sighed. “You could have said something.”

Kurt’s stammering came to a halt. “You’re right. I should not have acted so… rashly.”

Blaine snorted. “I’ll say. I thought we were past this, Kurt.” He looked up to meet his husband’s gaze.

Kurt’s eyes stung with fresh frustrated tears threatening to spill over. “We… We are. I just—” He heaved a sigh. “Blaine, honey, I’m so sorry. There’s no explanation that makes—” Kurt gestured vaguely to the window. “—this acceptable. I just.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he huffed out in a single breath, “I couldn’t take any more.”

The last thing Kurt expected was Blaine to start chuckling, and for those chuckles to turn into absolute _guffaws_ as he bent over with the force of them. “I’m—I’m sorry, it’s just—just so silly, you know?” He straightened a bit and looked up at Kurt’s quirked eyebrow at the word _silly_. “No, that’s not what I meant, I don’t think your frustrations are silly, angel.” Blaine faced his husband head on and placed his hands atop Kurt’s shoulders. “I mean the SodaStream. You threatened once, but I never thought one day you’d actually—” More giggles.

Kurt’s tears dissipated as the sound of Blaine’s laughter acted as a balm to his nerves, because of course he wasn’t being laughed at. He didn’t need Blaine to finish to know what he was going to say; it was the absurdity, especially considering that Kurt had once, what feels like a lifetime ago, threatened to _throw the machine out the window_ , and the memory of the Bushwick loft made them both smile and Kurt even huffed a laugh too. Because it wasn’t really ever about the SodaStream, especially considering the looming pressure of his end of semester recital now less than two weeks away on top of the extra responsibility Isabelle now trusted him with at Vogue dot com. It was about Kurt’s need for peace among the chaos, and the SodaStream felt like every bit of madness in their lives that threatened to encroach upon that peace, concentrated into a single, ear-splitting noise.

All of this passed between the two unsaid as Kurt relaxed and took a breath.

He gave Blaine a playful smirk. “Even after all these years, you still underestimate me, Anderson.”

“Hey,” Blaine put a hand to his own chest, affronted. “That’s Anderson-Hummel to you.”

“How could I ever forget?”

Kurt leaned into the kiss Blaine gave him that was all smiles and warmth and _home_.


End file.
